♥♥♥♥♥♥... Neeeeeeerd

thee fooleth! thee clotpole! i'm putting cheese whiz into thy shoes, and those gents shall curdle and thee shall beest hath left with nothing but the rancid sensation of cheese beneath thy toes. the moon shall riseth again, and at which hour t doest, i shall filleth thy engine with m're cheese. awawa

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sorry